


Letters

by YumenHaze



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, Other, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumenHaze/pseuds/YumenHaze
Summary: Upon opening the letter, the words enticed you, each addressed to you and specific to you. Each word was tailored to any experience you and the poet had shared. The second letter was just the same, references to extravagant metaphors and historical figures, quotes of age old poetry combined with the poet's individual flair; it was even hard to read at times due to its complexity and depth. But you adored every word. It didn't take long for your mind to drift to who the sender could be, only one name coming to mind who could write in such a way.Homare Arisugawa.
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Reader, Arisugawa Homare/Tachibana Izumi
Kudos: 18





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I had really been feeling for Homare recently and I really wanted to write something for him. Please enjoy!!

Low sunlight filtered through your windows as the afternoon progressed. Zoning out whilst gazing at the window was a hobby you had unknowingly picked up, seemingly giving you immunity to the passage of time as it sweeped by, an hour passing in only what seemed like 10 minutes. A noise at the door dispelled the mental haze of daydreams: mail. 

Letters were no surprise to you, often from relatives who lives far away on special occasions bank statements and flyers, nothing particularly interesting, the other half of what you receive ending up discarded. You returned to your seat, beginning to slowly drift, your eyes unfocusing before you were torn from your thoughts with the same noise. Somewhat frustrated at the disturbance of your peace, you snatched the letter from the door, setting it in the table without a second thought. 

The same events occurred the next day, a little after you sit down, another letter appears. There were no events near, no celebrations, so who had personally sent the letters? Your curiousity piquing, you decided to find out. 

"To My Gracious Rose" was written on the front in a fountain pen. No address, no sender, no stamp.

This had been sent personally.

Upon opening the letter, the words enticed you, each addressed to you and specific to you. Each word was tailored to any experience you and the poet had shared. The second letter was just the same, references to extravagant metaphors and historical figures, quotes of age old poetry combined with the poet's individual flair; it was even hard to read at times due to its complexity and depth. But you adored every word. It didn't take long for your mind to drift to who the sender could be, only one name coming to mind who could write in such a way.

Homare Arisugawa.

The next day, another letter came through. This pattern continued for several days, each attached to a rose, before the letters began to become more confessional, until one contained a hint-like stanza. The key line that stood out was a location and a time, although it was disguised. No date was given, causing you to assume he meant the day you received it. Checking the time only made anxiety settle, you had 4 minutes to leave and arrive at the point; the time was unmatched to your luck however, and you could reach the destination on foot in just under 3 minutes. Charging out of the house, you made your way to the said location. 

Upon reaching the entrance, you noticed a rose placed purposefully on the floor before you. Sometimes, rose petals lead in directions to lead you through the pathways and trees. Upon reaching the entrance to a fountain, you could make out a figure sat near the water. Anxiety began to eat at you as you approached the figure. 

"Homare?" You called out. 

"Ah, my darling, you arrived!" He turned to you, a rose in his hand. Homare invited you to sit next to him, handing you the rose.

"I see you have received my letters."

"Of course I knew they were from you."

"You did!? Well, my efforts to be secretive would not be fun without at least a clue." 

"No one else can write quite like you, it's obvious" 

At your words, Homare's face flushed pink however he recomposed himself. If anyone was going to get flustered this evening, he'd want it to be you.

"You are my muse, how I feel can only be expressed through such words and convey how I feel... I've felt love but... This... Is different. It's so intense but... Light. I want to experience this feeling with you. Do you share this feeling?" 

Homare struggled to out his feelings into words outloud for the first time, a juxtaposition to his previous extensive poems and sonnets on how he felt, but seeing you changed something in his mind. He wanted to pull you close to him, he wanted to see you. He wanted to feel you and know exactly how you felt. He wanted you to know how he felt more than anything in the world. 

"I do" you simply smiled. Homare intertwined his hand hand with yours, almost hesitantly, a smile widely on his face. Cupping your face with his other hand, he tilted your face so your gaze met his, kissing your cheek softly before speaking once more.

"I'm truly happy to hear you feel what I do. Let us experience this, together."


End file.
